


Fevered Visions

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan [36]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fever Dreams, Hurt/Comfort, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyrium withdrawal can bring about states of confusion where the lines blur between reality and memory. Cullen can feel himself slipping and sees a painfully familiar face when someone comes to check on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fevered Visions

Cullen knew upon waking that today was not going to be one of his good days. Withdrawal was hitting him hard, his tongue feeling swollen for want of lyrium, his head thrumming with an ever-present ache. Every movement, every _thought_ hurt and despite all of his attempts, he could feel his focus slipping.

His fist tightened around the report he’d been trying to read, unable to stop the persistent tremor in his hands. He ran an unsteady palm over his brow, wiping sweat from overheated skin. He could feel the room tipping and swaying around him, his head swimming, dizzy and nauseated as he braced himself against his desk, closing his eyes. He tried to center himself, breathing deeply, yet couldn’t escape the unbearable fevered heat.  

He could hear the echo of voices, quiet whispers that were close and yet their words were indiscernible. When his eyes opened, he could see his hands pressed down to a long table, tomes and grimoires stacked neatly in piles. He lifted his head, his brow furrowing as he saw the tall bookshelves that lined the grey stone walls. He knew this room – the heavy scent of ink and parchment, the air damp from the late-night fog of Lake Calenhad.

 _No_.

He couldn’t be here. This couldn’t be real. His knees buckled and he sank down into the chair behind him, gripping the arms. Disorientation made his head throb, visions shifting one to the other. One second, he saw the library of Kinloch Hold as it would have been on any quiet evening – the next, he saw the piles of debris, books knocked from their shelves, the floors and walls lined with gore from moments that he did not want to remember. He could hear the demon whispering, feel the phantom memory of its claws dragging down the back of his neck, his skin crawling as a shiver ran down his spine.

_This isn’t real. This can’t be real._

He hunched forward, pressing his palms against his brow, struggling to breathe. He closed his eyes, trying to force himself back into Skyhold. Back to his office, his chair, his desk covered in his piles of paperwork. He could do nothing to keep his body from shaking, his breaths ragged as he prayed.

“Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What You have created, no one shall tear asunder…”

“Cullen?”

His eyes lifted before all the color drained from his face.

It couldn’t be her, but it was. Circle robes of pale lavender and gold, deep hazel eyes and dark brown curls. She looked at him, puzzled at his slack-jawed stare as she drew closer. “I knocked, but you didn’t…” She hesitated, her head tilting as she studied his face. “You look terrible.”

His chest tightened, aching under the pressure. It couldn’t be her. Not _her_. She was simply another memory he did not want to replay. He closed his eyes again, shaking his head, burying his face in his palms as he leaned forward, folding in on himself. _Maker, I beg you, release me_.

“Hey, talk to me,” she said, her voice just as sweet and soft as he remembered it. She knelt in front of his chair, bringing her hand to his cheek. The sudden weight of her palm against his skin was a shock, his eyes lifting to meet hers. He could _feel_ her. Not a memory. Not a shade. Not a vision from a demon tormenting him with what he’d lost. Her brow furrowed. “You’re burning up,” she murmured and he could feel her hand grow cold, the subtle tingle of frost on her fingertips as she brushed them along his brow. He stared into her face, watched the concern deepen in her eyes as she shook her head. “I’m going to fetch a healer.”

He caught her wrist as she began to pull away and she froze, staring at him. His eyes searched her face, scanning every detail. Pale skin dotted with freckles. The round curve of her ears that always reminded him of seashells. Soft pink lips, small yet full, currently drawn tight with worry. “Cullen, what is it?” she asked, peering at him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Not a ghost. She couldn’t be because he could feel her, hold her, his hand tightening around her wrist. He cupped her cheek, whispering her name and her look of confusion only deepened. The thought that she could be real drove him forward, leaning into her until their lips met. It was not a graceful movement, half-slipped from his chair, all-but crashing into her. He felt her stiffen in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her, her startled whimper muffled by his mouth before he pulled away, burying his face against her shoulder. He could feel her warmth, smell her skin. It made no sense. He knew it made no sense.

“It can’t be you,” he whimpered, tightening his grip on her, his arms trembling. “I saw you die.”

He felt her hand move to the back of his neck, squeezing tightly as she shushed him. “Ane atisha, falon,” she whispered and he frowned at her meaningless words. He felt her fingers in his hair, her nails on his scalp. “Wherever you’ve gone, Commander, come back to me.”

_Commander._

He lifted his head, looking at the mage he held in his arms. The image of the Amell girl had vanished. Instead, the Inquisitor stared back at him, puzzled. He quickly released her, straightening in his seat, looking around in a daze. He was in his office once more, Isii kneeling in front of his chair. She studied him for a moment, her hands resting on his knees. “You back with me now?”

He stammered, stumbling to find words. “Yes. Yes, I’m… I thought I was… Maker’s breath, I didn’t recognize you.”

“I kinda got that when you called me Ellora.”

He winced, mortified. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

She offered him a warm smile. “Can’t say it’s what I was expecting, but I suppose it’s better than you punching bookcases and throwing things at me.” She lifted her hand again, summoning a chill and running it against his brow. He allowed his eyes to close, pressing against her touch. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”

“No. Never had one that bad before.”

“Do you want me to get a proper healer? There’s only so much that I-”

“No,” he said sharply. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” He shook his head, letting out a shaky sigh. “Maker, I don’t want _you_ to see me like this.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Cullen.”

“I wish that were true,” he said softly. “I hate to see my failings become a burden to you.”

He felt her catch the bottom of his chin with her hand, his eyes opening as she looked into his face. “Cullen, shut up. You’re not a burden to me or to anyone here. You are just as vital to the Inquisition as I am.” He parted his lips to object but she cut him off. “That is not up for debate, Commander.”

He sighed, nodding. “Understood.”

She ran her cooling touch along his jaw, down the back of his neck and he could feel the fevered heat on his skin finally begin to lessen. “I know you will get through this, Cullen. I have no doubt.”

He offered her a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“Now,” she said, shifting to an authoritative tone. “You are under strict orders to take the rest of the day off and relax. I’ll have food sent up for you and Cassandra or I will check on you later this evening.”

“If I could make a request…” He hesitated, lowering his gaze. “I understand if you wish to inform Cassandra of the lapse in my senses… but for the sake of embarrassment, I would prefer the details go unmentioned.”

She chuckled, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “No harm done, falon. It’ll be our little secret.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for the romance meme (Cullen + Lavellan - A surprise kiss). Even though my canon Warden is Myra Cousland, Ellora Amell was still a mage at Kinloch Hold. Unfortunately for her, Duncan never went there to conscript her and she died during the chaos that destroyed Ferelden's Circle. 
> 
> Cullen’s prayer is Trials 1:10.
> 
> Ane atisha, falon - Calm down, friend.


End file.
